Calling In Schuester
by moonswirl
Summary: Gleekathon, day seven hundred and thirty-seven: Will gave them his number to drive them home safe, and Brittany uses it.  aka 'The Magician'


_Started my daily ficlets to make the hiatus pass, then decided to keep going with a 2nd cycle, and then a 3rd, 4th, etc through 35th cycle. Now cycle 36!_

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><p><em>Had the idea for this cycle back in July or August where I thought it'd be interesting to do <strong>a set inspired by tarot cards<strong>. My initial research then directed me to the cards of **the Major Arcana**, of which there were 22, so I combined two, which got me to 21, making this a cycle-long set of stories. Then I did more research, to find out about each of those cards, and what they can represent. Now I need to point out that it's a more or less basic approach. I don't go into the reverse meaning or other things, just this part.** ** If you would like the document of info I've collected and based myself on, let me know and I'll send it, since it covers the next three weeks' worth of stories. **** Lastly, in connection to the first card, **'The Fool'**, and the journey through those other cards, this entire cycle will feature, in lead or supporting form, one **Brittany S. Pierce**..._

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><p><strong>"Calling In Schuester"<br>or 'The Magician'  
>Brittany &amp; Will <strong>

Will had finally gone to bed. The day had been long, and he was glad it was over and done with. He needed the rest, and didn't imagine it would take him long to fall asleep… and then the phone rang. He frowned, until he realized it wasn't the home phone but his cell phone. He didn't know what it was, call it a hunch, but he knew on the other end of that call would be one of his students, from Glee Club. He'd given them his number, to be used in very specific conditions and, remembering that, he'd reached out to get a hold of his phone on the nightstand.

"Hello?" he answered, not knowing the number on his screen. There was no answer at first, though he could hear sounds on the other end. He sat up. "Hello?" he tried again. "This is Mr. Schuester," he tried, in hope of triggering a response.

"Mr. Schue, is that you?" the voice asked, and he closed his eyes.

"Brittany, are you alright?" There was silence again. "Brittany?" he spoke, already getting up, moving to put on his shoes. "Are you there?"

"I don't know… I don't know where 'there' is," she went on, and by the slur of her words he had to imagine she was good and drunk. "Can you… can you come get me, please?" It felt like she wanted to say more then, but stopped herself.

"Where are you, I'll come," he found his car keys. There was another pause, which he'd realize later was her trying to get him that information – she didn't know where she was. Finally she'd managed to locate street signs, told him she was next to a gas station. He told her to wait there, and to call him again if she needed to, that he'd be there in no more than five minutes. He was still wearing his sweat pants and t-shirt, but it would have to do. Getting to her as soon as possible was more important.

When he arrived, it took him a moment to find her, but then there she was, sat by the ice box, arms wrapped around her knees and feet tapping while her head bobbed left and right, staring at the cars passing by. He guessed by her clothes she must have been at a party of some kind, though she looked a little worse for wear now. He jogged over to her, then slowed as he approached, crouched in front of her.

"Brittany?" he spoke, and she looked back to him. Her eyes went wide with gratitude. "Are you alright?" he went back to his first question.

"I think… I'm going to be sick…" she revealed, and he nodded.

"Sounds about right. Stay here." He went into the station, got her water. He knew there was a chance she could get sick in his car, but he was going to have to risk it and hope that they could stop and pull over if need be. "Come on," he offered his hands and helped her up, guided her back to his car and got her into the backseat while he regained the driver's seat. When he closed the door, he heard a moan and saw her tip over. "Brittany, hey…" he started to reach back, but then saw she'd just laid down across the back seat. He sighed… maybe it would help. Although he wasn't sure what to do with her at that moment. She had called him. Not her parents, not Santana, so there had to be a reason. They couldn't just stay there though, so he decided at least for the time being, he'd drive her back to his place, get her on the couch, and he could call her parents once he knew more.

The car ride wasn't as disastrous as he'd feared it would be. She didn't get sick, but then she did try to start and take off her shoes, and socks, which he begged her to keep on. She shrugged, started humming. He sighed… So much for resting up.

Getting back to the building was one thing. Getting her up the stairs and to his living room was… another. Very carefully he'd helped her along, until finally she was able to sit and rest on the couch. She snatched up a pillow, buried her face in it. "Brittany?" he had to coax her back to attention.

"What?" her voice was muffled.

"Why'd you call me?" he asked, trying to see her face – it popped back into view as she looked to him.

"Was I not supposed to? You said we c…" she showed him her phone, on the back of which had been taped the card with his number. He smiled.

"Yes, you did good, thank you," he told her, and she smiled, relieved. "What I mean is… what happened tonight?" he went on, and her face went back into the pillow. "Brittany, hey… talk to me…" The face popped back out, she sat up.

"I was… at a party… But, uh… we had a fight, and I just… I walked out… and I walked… and I walked… and I walked…" She paused, like she had said the same words so many times she couldn't remember what she'd been saying before. "And I…"

"Walked?" he continued, and she nodded. "So you got lost?" he guessed, and she nodded again, sheepish.

"Don't even remember what the fight was about," she frowned… "Or who with," she realized. "My memory's not the best when I'm not really dr…" She clammed up, looking at him like he couldn't actually tell she was drunk.

"It's okay," he promised, though she still looked really sorry. "You called, you did the right thing," he reasserted this, and again got a proud smile out of her… soon replaced by the need to lie down. "Brittany, why didn't you call home?"

"Promised I wouldn't do… you know…" she whispered, miming a glass, though her whispering skills were mildly impaired by the alcohol in her system. He sighed. On the one hand he wanted to be the good guy, help her hide this like a secret, but he knew he wouldn't be doing her any favors.

"Brittany, you need to let me call them," he told her, and she shook her head, begging. "No, but I have to," he insisted. "They'll worry about you." She closed her eyes, and for a beat he thought she'd fallen asleep, but then he saw her nod, hand over her phone. So he stepped out of the room and called. Brittany's father would come and pick her up. Until then, Will returned to stay with her. He sat there, looking at her, and she looked back to him, silent. He sighed. "You know, we've all had this talk before, same time I gave you this," he pointed to the card on her phone. "I'm not going to lecture you on what you should or shouldn't do right now, but I need you to be careful."

"I am careful," she promised. "I watch my cup, just like Santana showed me," she nodded. "And I walked…" she repeated her words again, and he could hear her mumble them again under her breath.

"Yeah," he approved quietly. "But you could do so much more…" he went on talking, more to himself than her, but he knew she heard him after a moment.

"Thanks, Mr. Schue…" her voice was far away, and when he looked back to her, he saw she'd drifted off to sleep. He stood, reaching to lay a blanket over her, and then he waited for her father to arrive. He wasn't sure if she'd have any recollection of this evening.

On Monday morning, walking to his Spanish class, he saw her waiting there, outside the door. Before he could say anything, she had her arms around him, just for a second or two. When she pulled away, she gave him a smile, and then she walked into class, moved to her seat. He let out a breath, smiled as well, and then he went in to teach his class.

THE END

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><p><strong>AN: This is a one-shot ficlet, which means that signing up for story alert will not bring you any alerts.  
><strong>**In the event of a sequel, the story will be separate from this one. And as chapter stories go, they are  
><strong>******always clearly indicated as such [ex: "Days 204-210" in the summary] Thank you!******


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